


I just died in your arms tonight (it must've been some kind of kiss)

by psycho_chan



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cassian's thoughts, F/M, Love, POV Third Person, Romance, Sort of Freeform, They die, this is what happens when you watch rogue one three times and can't sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9182914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psycho_chan/pseuds/psycho_chan
Summary: His end, her end, their end, it's bittersweet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm devastated. Needed to write something. I'm sorry, this is bad. Also the way Cassian looks at Jyn in the elevator, OMFG. Kudos and comments always appreciated <3 !!!!
> 
> Title taken from Bastille's cover for (I Just) Died In Your Arms Tonight.

Cassian is dying. Cassian will die.

He knows he will die, he knows it’s the end, he sees the terminal, but he’s not dead yet, because he won’t jump to the platform slowly approaching, won’t jump out of the moving train, will wait for it stop and walk on slated ground.

He’s courageous. He doesn’t hang on to dear life. He accepts it and doesn’t put up resistance. He accepts it, and the only resistance he lets himself put up, and at the same time the only one that slips his foggy mind somehow unnoticed, is the way his grip around Jyn’s shoulders and waist tightens.

He’s bleeding, most of his ribs are broken, death is coming, it’s not something he can stop, it’s inevitable, he knows, he _knows_ , yet he’s satisfied.

He’s satisfied with himself. He tries to be.

He regrets things he’s done; he regrets having killed people, he regrets having hurt others, he regrets not talking when he should have, he regrets not acting up sometimes, he regrets not eating his mother’s food the day before she died, he regrets the danger he put his friends and companions in for him, he regrets the things he didn’t do and didn’t say, he regrets, he regrets, he regrets.

He thinks of all the responsibilities he’s going to leave behind. The duty of being a captain that will weigh someone else’s shoulders, the paperwork in his room, his spies and the fact only he knows that some of them are spies, the people that depend on him, the orphans he helps on weekends. A fleeting thought about what will happen to his things, his clothes, his plans and his strategies crosses his mind.

He’s desperate, in the end. He’s wishing he’d live a little longer, a little more, he’s wishing he had more time. More time with the people at the base, more time with his friends, more time with the rest of the rebels, to thank them and express his gratefulness. He’s wishing he would live long enough to see the Rebellion destroy the Death Star, to see the Rebellion grow and win.

He’s scared when he thinks of all the great things to come, when he thinks he’ll miss them. He’s scared when he thinks of all the bad things to come, when he thinks he’ll miss those too, scared of who lives and dies, scared of the fate of people he won’t be there for and won’t be able to protect.

He’s wishing that everyone else is okay, that everyone else is leaving the fight sweaty, dirty but with the smile of victory on their face, he’s wishing everyone is alive. He’s dying and he’s still prioritizing the safety of others.

He’s a good person. He’s satisfied with himself.

He can regret, wish, hope, he can be sad, angry, desperate. He can drown in responsibility or fear.

But it’s too late.

It’s too late, and so he decides to be satisfied with himself. He chooses to die in peace, not to suffocate in his worries, because he doesn’t want to be killed before his time.

He’s satisfied with himself, he tries to be. Jyn thinks he’s a good person, Jyn is satisfied with him, with everything he’s done. If Jyn believes it, he believes it too.

He’s satisfied with himself. He’s dying because he did something good, something that will save the Rebellion. He did something that will save thousands of lives, thousands of homes, thousands of families, will save each person individually from a pain he can relate to, a pain he knows, a pain that’s all too familiar, a pain sharp and everlasting.

He disobeyed his orders and sacrificed himself for something more important than the plans; lives and the rebels’ hope.

He’s satisfied, because not everyone dies heroically in the middle of an enemy battlefield, having won the battle when all possibilities were against his favor, having won the battle with his friends. Not everyone dies loved, in the arms of someone he feels at home.

He’s okay.

He grew up fighting. He falls fighting. But he dies peacefully.

It’s all okay.

It’s all okay, because he has Jyn. He’s holding Jyn.

It’s all okay, because Jyn is the one that helped him stand when he was down on this beach, to let go of the past, and just take everything in and feel and give her all he can; a loving gaze and an embrace in return.

That’s all he can give, all anybody can give, in the end.

He’s holding Jyn. Everything reeks of chemicals, explosives, blood, death, fuels, burnt engines and burnt flesh, there are bodies behind them, bodies of people they knew and bodies of people they didn’t, all there is to hear is the distant wave of the explosion caused by the Death Star, getting closer every second that passes, but here he is. Here they are. Next to the sea, knees buried in the sand.

He’s intoxicated by the faint scent of nature; the sea, the iodine, the salt. But what stands out in those moments is Jyn; he can feel her scent caressing his nostrils, persistent, especially on the place he has his head, close to her hair and her arms.

Jyn doesn’t smell good. She smells like the battlefield, she smells like metal, she smells like strength and power, and that’s not a smell, but he doesn’t care, that’s what he relates her to. He’s smelling flesh, something carnal, something human and so alive and reassuring he can’t put it into words. He takes a deep breath and he’s home, he knows he is, he knows this is how he’s supposed to die, it has always been.

He’s holding her, they won, and nothing else matters.

All that matters, all that will until the end, is the warm friend, the warm companion, the warm rebel next to him. She’s his whole world right now, because he has nothing else to hold on to. She’s all he has left, all he can love before he’s gone, before he joins what he had left a long time ago.

Because he loves Jyn.

Because he’s an idiot like that, and he fell in love with that stubborn and independent and beautiful human being in his arms.

He doesn’t need to say it. She’s sharp and smart and brilliant, and she will see the flame, the ache, the want there, she will see right through him. She already has. She’s seen it; sometimes feelings don’t need words for the other person to understand them, to acknowledge their existence, don’t need kisses, all that’s really needed is a look, a touch, a smile, and that’s how they both know their feelings are the strongest.

And Cassian knows he’s loved back.

If she can see right through him, he can see right through her too.

It doesn’t matter what their start was. This is the end.

Does the start really matter, ever? It’s always the end that leaves the aftertaste, bitter or sweet.

And their ending is bittersweet.

It’s bitter because they’re dying, because there’s nothing else they’ll be able to do for the Rebellion. It’s bitter because people died. It’s bitter because they didn’t have more time together. But it’s sweet, it’s so sweet, he’s a hero. He died winning, he lived fighting, and now he’s being held by the hands of the woman he loves, expecting the end with her.

He’s holding her; she’s holding him back. Their legs are tangled, the upper parts of their bodies are almost one, his head is on her shoulder, and her head is on his. Every part of him burns where their skin, bare or clothed, is touching. Every warm breath that leaves her lips sends waves of heat to his ear, to his hair and to his neck, and he knows it’s the same for her. The heartbeat below his is slow, it’s all okay.

He’s choking on his feelings.

Everything he thinks, everything he does, everything he smells, everything he sees, everything he touches, everything he tastes, they all feel too powerful, too crucifying.

They’re so strong, his heart aches, his stomach tightens, his throat clenches, he feels pressure in his eyes.

Because he doesn’t know who lived or died.

Because he smells destruction.

Because he loves Jyn, because Jyn loves him, and they both know it.

Because they’ve done something good.

Because he sees, literally sees, the end approaching.

Because they saved lives.

Because it’s his first real strike against the Empire.

Because as the white wave arrives to swallow them whole, _Cassian has Jyn_.

 

 

                                                                                                      ~ FIN ~

**Author's Note:**

> T̶H̶E̶Y̶ ̶D̶I̶E̶ ̶W̶H̶A̶T̶ ̶T̶H̶E̶ ̶F̶U̶C̶K̶ ̶T̶H̶E̶Y̶ ̶L̶O̶O̶K̶ ̶A̶T̶ ̶E̶A̶C̶H̶ ̶O̶T̶H̶E̶R̶ ̶I̶N̶ ̶T̶H̶A̶T̶ ̶L̶O̶V̶I̶N̶G̶ ̶W̶A̶Y̶ ̶A̶N̶D̶ ̶H̶O̶L̶D̶ ̶H̶A̶N̶D̶S̶ ̶A̶N̶D̶ ̶H̶U̶G̶ ̶A̶N̶D̶ ̶D̶I̶E̶ ̶T̶H̶E̶Y̶ ̶F̶U̶C̶K̶I̶N̶ ̶D̶I̶E̶ ̶I̶ ̶C̶A̶N̶'̶T̶ ̶D̶E̶A̶L̶ ̶W̶I̶T̶H̶ ̶M̶Y̶ ̶F̶E̶E̶L̶S̶ ̶P̶L̶E̶A̶S̶E̶ ̶H̶E̶L̶P̶ ̶M̶E̶
> 
> *clears throat*
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Hope you liked it!!
> 
> (Not sure if this is how the dying mind works, I'm improvising. Not sure if this is how optimism works either.)


End file.
